


Swimming Lessons

by DreadPirateWestley



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: Cardiff, F/M, Swimming, Swimming Pool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:57:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreadPirateWestley/pseuds/DreadPirateWestley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benedict meets a vacationing American in Cardiff while filming the second series of Sherlock. Late night swims and sexy times (eventually) ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Night One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for and posted on (lo, so many moons ago) BCSF.

    I laid in bed staring at the light on the smoke detector.  It blinked red at me in 45 second intervals.  I desperately wanted to turn over but I knew I’d regret it the second I did.  A day of scenic bike riding in Cardiff had rendered me a throbbing mass of soreness.  My friends and I had thought a trail ride would be a good way to work off some of the extra calories a vacation inevitably coerced you into consuming, but of course we’d overestimated our stamina.  We’d all limped back to our rooms, wishing we’d just gone to a nice museum instead.

  
     I glanced at the clock on the bedside table.  It read 1:18 A.M.

   
     If only I had a large tube of Bengay or even IcyHot.  I wouldn’t mind smelling like an old person if I could get relief.  The worst part was it would be far worse in the morning, after hours of lying still.

  
     Something in the back of my mind was working its way out.  Something my friend Casey had said the other day at lunch.  
“Well, I got my work out in last night.  I’m going to eat all of my cheesecake.”  She picked up her fork eagerly.  I laughed at her.

  
     “You worked out?  When?  In between browsing shoe stores?”

  
     She smiled as she chewed.  “No, last night at the hotel when I couldn’t sleep.  I went to the gym around two in the morning.  Door was unlocked.  The treadmill had a TV with cable!”

  
     If the gym wasn’t locked, maybe the pool wasn’t.  There was a hot tub, or jacuzzi, or some damn heated bubbly thing down there.  Just half an hour or so would help me feel so much better.  I sat up quickly, groaning out loud.

  
     As long as my friends and I had been traveling, I’d always brought along a swimsuit, with every intention of making use of the pool where we were staying.  It never happened.  Once, a couple of years ago, we went on a Caribbean cruise and I actually took it out of my suitcase.  It would have been weird to swim with the dolphins in jeans, after all.  In preparation for our trip to Cardiff I’d managed to misplace my suit, so I’d had to buy another one that I knew I’d end up not wearing when I didn’t get in the pool.  It was a cute, simple one piece, deep maroon with white trim and racing back straps.  It was on sale and it didn’t look horrible on me.  I was an easy sell.  I slipped into the suit carefully, and then my board shorts, my muscles complaining the entire time.  All I could think was how painful getting undressed was going to be.

  
     I shuffled into my flip flops, slipped a stretchy ponytail band on my left wrist and grabbed a towel.  Slinking down the hall to the elevator as quietly as I could, I tucked my room key into my suit, just over my left boob.  Curse me for buying board shorts with no pockets.

  
     The elevator dinged and I shushed it, glancing down the empty hall.  God forbid I run into anyone looking like this.  I’d already managed to spot a celebrity staying in the hotel.  Well, he was to me — my very uncultured girlfriends had no clue who he was.  I tried to think of anything they might have seen him in.  “Benedict Cumberbatch,” I’d said.  It took them five minutes to stop laughing at his name.  “Sherlock?”  Blank stares.  “Atonement?”  Nothing.  I’d seen him getting into a car one morning, in a casual suit and sunglasses, then later that same night, talking animatedly with some other people.  I prayed he wasn’t a night owl.

  
     I peered down the hall from the open elevator door and surmised that all appeared to be clear.  I made for the direction of the pool, tiptoeing so as not to _flip_ or _flop_ too loudly.  I retrieved my room key card from my suit, swiped it at the pool door and was rewarded with a little green light and a clicking sound.  I swung the door open quickly and nearly jumped inside, making sure it shut softly behind me.  The first thing I noticed was splashing.

  
     "You’re not supposed to be in here."

  
     I turned to around to see a man at the far end of the pool.  My first instinct was sarcasm.  “I’m sorry - just me?  Did you get special permission or something?"

  
     "No," he said, swimming over to the side.  “But I was here first."  He was in the light now, and I recognized him instantly.  Well, _shit_.  It was Sherlock.  Cumberbatch to be exact.  Of all the situations to run into him, this?  Really?  Instead of well-coiffed and poised, I stood there in my Old Navy $5 flip flops, wondering if it had been yesterday or the day before that I’d shaved my legs.  _Shit_.

  
     "Look," I continued with a little less attitude, “I’m just going to sit in the hot tub for a little while.  I don’t need the pool, so you can keep swimming, or whatever."  I pointed my thumb toward the smaller pool near the back of the room and made my way to it, trying, again, not to _flip_ or _flop_ too loudly.  He rested his hands together on the edge of the pool, then nestled his chin over them.

  
     "They turned it off hours ago.  I’m afraid it’s more of a cold tub now, actually."

  
     I dipped a toe in and sure enough, he was right.  I sighed heavily.  “My muscles are very sorry to hear that."  I clutched at my towel and began to walk back toward the door.

  
     "You know, the pool closes at eight."

  
     I stopped in my tracks and turned around to stare at him.  “Yes, I _can_ read English.  Obviously I thought I could sneak in and out without being noticed.  But you wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you?"

  
     He smiled and his eyes crinkled at the corners.  He looked me up and down.  “Sore?"

  
     "Yes, I am."  Why wasn’t I leaving?

  
     "Hmmm.  Did a bit of hiking today, I suppose?"

  
     "Cycling.  On the Taff Trail."

  
     "Ah.  Eyes bigger than your stomach, then?"

    
     "Apparently.  Look, I’m leaving."

  
     "Do a couple of laps, fix you right up."

  
     This was the strangest conversation I’d ever had. “I’m sorry, what?"

  
     "A couple of slow laps in the pool, work the soreness right out.  Works for me."

  
     "Um, no.  No thanks.  I’m just going to go."

  
     He smiled again, warmly this time.  His voice was friendlier, too.  “I’m sorry if it sounded like I was judging you before.  Really, I am.  Come on.  You can have that half.  I promise to stay on my side."  He pushed back lightly from the side.  I almost regretted having to say no.

  
     "No, really. I…I can’t."  I turned on my heel with what I hoped looked like finality and began to leave.  He splashed loudly in the water. I turned back.

  
     "I’m really, _really_ sorry."  He swam back to the edge and hoisted himself up to his waist. “Come back.  I’ll be nice, I promise."

  
     I glanced at his wet biceps straining to hold his body up against the side.  I blinked and tried to compose myself.  Talk about embarrassing.  “I can’t."  I repeated.  “Literally.  I can’t…swim."

  
     There it was.  The thing I never told anyone if I could help it.  And here I’d just told a random sexy British actor I’d happened to run into at a swimming pool in the middle of the night.  What was my life?

  
     In one fluid movement, he turned around, hoisted himself up to sit on the side of the pool, then stood up and glared at me.  My God, he was skinny.  I’d read he kept himself lean for Sherlock, which I knew he was currently shooting.  What puzzled me most was how, as lanky as he was, he still managed such definition.  His abs rippled without looking like they belonged on a Ken doll and his legs…..I had stared at those bare legs before.  A terribly indie-minded, artsy friend had dragged me to see the NT Live broadcast of Frankenstein.  I’d known nothing about it when we went, and when I picked up a flyer in the lobby and saw his name, the golden-headed angel staring back at me was hardly how I’d remembered his Sherlock looking.  The version we’d seen had him playing the Creature to Jonny Lee Miller’s doctor, and by the end of the night I was both shocked and pleased to be so attracted to that bald head and those scars.  The man’s body was divine, his performance even more so.  While the man in front of me could stand to eat a cheeseburger or two, with those black swim trunks clinging to him and water dripping everywhere, he was still a sight to behold.

  
     "I’m sorry, how old are you?"

  
     I stopped staring and shouted at him.  " _Excuse_ me?!?"

  
     He put up his hands and closed his eyes, wincing.  “No, no, no.  I’m—oh my goodness.  I didn’t mean to imply—" He ran his hands through his dark, wet hair and looked everywhere but at me.  “I just meant…that…a woman of your…well, you’re obviously an adult…and…most women, or adults of your….well…why haven’t you learned?" He finally focused on the ground at my feet.

  
     "For your information, I grew up in a land-locked…area."  I crossed my arms over my chest and the look on my face dared him to challenge me.

  
     He managed to look me in the eye. There was a twinkle in his.  “All right, no water, no need to swim.  I gather from your accent that you’re not Welsh.  I’m going to assume you’re American."  He was scratching his head and moving toward me.  “So that means a long plane ride home, over a really big ocean.  What happens if you crash?"

  
     I scoffed.  “Flotation device.  Under the seat."

  
     "And if someone steals yours?"

  
     "I’ll hit them over the head and steal it back.  What _is_ this conversation??"

  
     He smiled and took a step toward me.  “I’m just saying, it’s a good skill to have, swimming.  I could teach you."

  
     "What?  _You_?  Could teach _me_?  To swim?  _Now_?"

  
     "Well, it is late."  He looked at his wrist.  He wasn’t wearing a watch. “I could teach you to…float.  Can you float?"

  
     Just when I thought it couldn’t get more embarrassing.  “No," I said in a small voice.

  
     He clapped once and turned toward the water.  “Excellent!  I bet you a fiver I’ll have you floating in half an hour.”

  
     “Well, that’s not fair,” I said.  “With the exchange rate, you come out on top.”

  
     “Yes, that’s true.  But I’d like to point out how awfully defeatist it is of you to go on and assume that you can’t learn.  It’s that kind of attitude that’s _kept_ you from learning.”

  
     “You sound like my father.”  I immediately wished I’d chosen another turn of phrase.  He didn’t seem to mind.

  
     “Smart man,” he said, slowly stepping down into the pool from the shallow end.  He made a beckoning motion at me with his hand.  “Come in, the water’s fine.”

  
     I actually had to force myself to look reluctant.  Yes, water had never been my favorite thing, but with a lifeguard who looked like this, what did I really have to be afraid of?  I growled under my breath and kicked my flip flops into a corner.  I threw my towel over as well, then my room key.  Deep breath – here I go.

  
     As I approached the steps leading into the water, he offered me his hand.  I took it with as bored a look on my face as I could muster.  He smiled slightly and moved with me slowly through the water.  I felt goose bumps forming all over me.  “This cold water is not helping my sore muscles,” I said.  He chuckled and tossed his head to the side.  “There’s a sauna, but again, it’s shut off.  You really should try taking advantage of hotel amenities during posted hours.”  I snatched my hand from his and hugged myself.  “Can we just get on with this, please?  I’m interested to see how you’re going to succeed where the entire trained staff of the Pleasant Hills Recreation Center failed.”

  
     He stood in front of me and placed both hands on my shoulders.  He lowered his head and looked me straight in the eye.  “You’re going to lean back.  I’m going to hold you up, and I will not let go unless you give me permission to.  Your body wants to float.  It’s the most natural thing in the world.”  I had half a mind to chastise him for talking to me like a child, but those eyes of his - what color were they exactly?  I’d have guessed a hazel-ish green before I’d seen him in the flesh, but this close up and near the water they were positively ice blue - made it hard to concentrate on being sarcastic.  I had to force out my words.  “Um.  OK.  But you’re not letting go unless I say so?”

  
     He was moving around behind me now, still holding my shoulders.  “Only if you say I can, and at no other time.  Ready?”

  
     I nodded and did my best to lean back.  There was gentle pressure from one of his hands still on my shoulder, and then the other was flat against my back, holding me up.  His voice was in my right ear.  “Arms out, legs as well, your body should be in a ‘T’ shape.  And try to _relax_.”  And how exactly should I do that, Mr. Cumberbatch? I thought.  With your pretty hands touching me and only a little bit of fabric in between?  Did I mention we’re in a pool, and it’s the middle of the night?  I let out a giggle, I couldn’t help it.  “What?  Ticklish?”  His voice was amused.  I tried to fix a serious frown on my face and realized my eyes were screwed shut.  “No,” I said.  “No, it’s just…this is a little ridiculous, isn’t it?”  He chuckled warmly in my ear and my insides vibrated.

  
     "It is, yes," he said, both hands lightly on my back now.  “But, look — you’re floating."

  
     And so I was.  I opened my eyes and watched the light on the water bounce around the ceiling.  My heart suddenly sped up and an irrational fear of falling came over me.  I tried to stay relaxed but my head kept telling my feet that they needed stability.  I tensed my back just a little, but that was all it took for me to suddenly sink, my head immediately going under, followed by the rest of me as my body stupidly flailed.  I twisted around beneath the surface, trying to get into a position where I could easily stand up.  I couldn’t feel the bottom of the pool with my feet, so of course I panicked.  I felt his arms wrap tightly around my middle then, pushing backwards until my feet made purchase with the floor of the pool and my head was above the surface.  I started coughing up water, my head turned away from him, hands clutching his shoulders.

  
     As I sputtered and choked, he slowly walked our entwined bodies to side of the pool, where the water was just up to my stomach.  I broke free of him and rested my head on the concrete edge, more embarrassed than anything.  He rested a hand on my back.  “All right?" he asked.  I coughed one last time, then shook my head and waved my hand at him casually.  I did not look up.  “Don’t mind me,” I said.  “There’s a reason I don’t do water.”

  
     He laughed and his hand gently moved on my back.  “It was a fine effort for a first time.  You just need to concentrate on not panicking.  I have to say I’m quite offended that you don’t trust me.”  I raised my head up and looked at him.  I smiled weakly.

  
     “It’s me I don’t trust.  Come on,” I said, moving over to our starting point.  “Back on the horse.  I think I’m in the zone.  And,” I felt compelled to add, “Can we stay just a _little_ closer to the shallow end?”

  
     “As you wish,” he said, moving behind me again.  “On three.  One, two, three.”

  
     I leaned back just as before.  Again, his hand was there on my shoulder and the other on my back.  I kept my eyes open this time.  I wished I could see myself.  What a weird picture we must make, I thought, Sherlock teaching the pasty American how to float.  I kept my giggles to myself this time.  I felt pressure from his hand on my back.  “Can I take this hand away?”  I thought briefly about how I’d like him never to take his hand away.  “Yes,” I said, breathing deeply and forcing my eyes not to shut.

  
     And there I was, floating on my own, eyes open, with only the slightest touch of his other hand near my neck. It was starting to feel natural.  His face appeared in my line of vision then, blocking out my rather monotonous view of the ceiling.  “Not bad.  How do you feel?”  I tried my best not to move and use very few words.  “Amazing,” I replied.  I didn’t mention how very much he looked like the first shot of Sherlock in “A Study in Pink,” sizing up a fresh body in the morgue.  Somehow I didn’t think he had a riding crop hidden in those shorts of his.  “You’re concentrating.  That’s good.  Can’t let anything startle you or you’ll sink again.”  I nodded, quite bravely, I felt, and yet I still floated along.  “Think you can properly steel yourself against distractions now, do you?” He frowned at me, or was he smiling?  It was hard to tell with his face upside down.  “A little test then, perhaps?”

  
     He kissed me softly then, Spider-Man hanging from a building upside down in the rain with M.J. style.  If we’d been standing up I absolutely would have had some sort of violent physical reaction, like wrapping my legs around his waist and thrusting my tongue down his throat.  But I didn’t so much as flinch, even when I felt his other hand leave my neck, so that the only parts of us touching were our lips.  He kept on kissing me, and every nanosecond he carried on I kept thinking he must realize how ludicrous this was, the whole situation, even as I found myself desperately wanting him to continue.

  
     From somewhere across the room, the pool door creaked open.  That ended the spell.  His mouth broke free from mine and his hands moved to support my back once again.  Through it all, I kept floating.

  
     A male voice spoke.  “Mr. Cumberbatch, I’m terribly sorry.  My shift is ending and our other manager is very strict about pool rules.”

  
     I felt myself being guided closer to edge, nearer the shallow end.  “Yes, Lamar, thank you.  We’re almost done here.  I really do appreciate you looking the other way for a bit.”

  
     “It’s no problem.  And I’m glad you chose not to swim by yourself.  Our insurance provider wouldn’t like it if something happened to you all alone in here, after hours.”  Was I imagining things or was there a smirk in Lamar’s words?  I was too embarrassed to look.

  
     “That was exactly my thinking.  I won’t be alone again tomorrow, and we’ll be sure to be gone before your shift ends.  Thank you again, Lamar.”

  
     The door creaked again and Lamar was gone.  I reached over for the side of the pool and stood up in one swift movement I was quite proud of.  Of course, we were in four feet of water.  “We?  Tomorrow?” I said, smoothing my drenched hair back out of my face.  I didn’t wait for an answer and instead made my way slowly up the steps and out of the pool.  I made a big show of looking for my towel and tried to not acknowledge the fact that his eyes were on me the entire time. 

  
     “You’ve mostly mastered floating.  Once you can do that on your own, we’d might as well move on to actual swimming.”  He made his way back to the side of the pool, to the spot where I’d first recognized him.  “Unless you’re not available?”  He rested his chin on his hands again, looking a bit like either a pouting puppy dog or a hungry shark, I couldn’t decide which.  I slipped into my flips flops, snatched up my room key, wrapped my towel around me and pretended that I had to think about it.

  
     “Hmm. OK,  I guess.”  I started for the door and tossed my wet hair over my shoulder dramatically.  I _flipped_ and _flopped_ as loudly as I could.  I turned briefly to look at him.  “I mean, I guess I could be persuaded to, if you could get your buddy Lamar to leave the hot tub on.”  With that I shoved the door open with my backside, flashed him a grin and walked calmly down the hall until I was sure he couldn’t see me anymore.  I heard his deep chuckle echo against the tiled walls.

  
     Body still sore, not caring, I nearly ran to the elevator.  It wouldn’t do if he saw me again after my cheeky little exit.  I turned around and looked myself up and down in the reflective back wall of the elevator.  My hair was a mess, my cheeks were flushed, and I could still feel his hands on me and his mouth on mine.  Tomorrow was a day full of sightseeing and shopping, plans I’d happily let my friends make.  But tomorrow night?

  
     I was going swimming.


	2. Night Two

    At 12:40 A.M. I stood in my hotel room staring at myself in its full length mirror.  My hair was in gentle waves after air drying for hours.  I’d calmed the excited flush on my cheeks with a tinted moisturizer.  I’d flossed, brushed, rinsed.  The only thing left to do was talk myself into exiting the room without all the unnecessary trepidation I’d managed to accumulate over the last twenty-four hours.

   
    My day had proceeded in something of a daze.  I’d convinced my friends to go swimsuit shopping without telling them why I actually wanted to go, trying on about fifteen suits and then deciding to buy the most flattering two.  I was a pretty good actress when it came to lying to my girlfriends, owing to the fact that I was the eldest and most responsible, and therefore something of an untouchable mother figure.  I still felt strange keeping my late night plans a secret.  I’d pretended to get an awful headache after lunch, then ditched them to then spend the rest of the day shaving, plucking and primping.  It was so unlike me, but I didn’t care.

  
    I couldn’t get him out of my head.

  
    The clock hit 12:45 and I took a deep breath.  I tied the sash to the dark blue cover up over my matching, very retro suit.  I’d had to strike a Betty Grable pose in the dressing room.  Low cut in the back but pretty modest everywhere else, I thought it suited my curves fine.  I tossed my MP3 player, mini speakers and cell phone into a small bag and took one last look as I clutched at a clean towel.  
Here went nothing.

  
    Racing down the hall to the elevator, I hoped for two simple things: that I’d beat him to the pool and that he’d actually show up.

  
    Passing through a hallway very near the front desk, I took care to walk on the other side of the hall, on the off chance Lamar might see me.  I glanced quickly around the corner, but before I could make my mad dash, there the night manager was, seemingly lying in wait for me.  He smiled like the Cheshire Cat.

  
    “Good morning, madam.  Swimming again today?”

  
    I smiled sheepishly and adjusted my cover up.  “Yes.”  There didn’t seem to be any point in elaborating.

  
    He turned back to his computer.  “Do enjoy yourself, madam.  And let me know if you…need anything.”

  
    Resisting the urge to call him an insufferable twat, I sneered at him and crept on toward the pool.  With there being no real need to be quiet about it anymore, I swiped my room key and swung the door open quite loudly, scanning the inside of the pool room carefully.

  
    No splashing.  No noise.  I was alone.

  
    I skipped over to the hot tub, happily aware that steam was wafting from the water.  Offering a silent apology to Lamar, I crouched down near the wall with my bag and dug out my iPod.  I docked it in the portable speakers, set it to my “oldies” playlist, then carefully set out my phone.  Work had intruded on my vacation earlier that day, and while I’d be damned if anything interrupted tonight, it wouldn’t do to lose my job.  There were still a few hours of daylight left stateside, and I knew that as long as my coworkers were scrambling against a deadline, there was the chance they might call me.  With a sigh and a prayer that they wouldn’t, I took off my cover up and settled slowly into the deliciously warm water.  My muscles felt instantly better.

  
    All day in my head I’d been trying to come up with something interesting to say when he made his entrance.  Last evening’s conversation had flowed rather easily, but only because I had been caught off guard and defending myself against sarcasm and cheek was my specialty.  Tonight was do or die, however.  I couldn’t skate by on my sardonic charm forever.  I’d considered the questions he might ask, what I did for a living, what my interests were, and honestly thought about lying, borrowing a few details from my friends’ lives.  I was certain that wherever this was going, it wouldn’t exactly turn into a relationship built on mutual trust and common interests.  I’d seen the way he’d looked at me and I’d done some looking as well.  There was an energy between us and it wouldn’t continue to be fueled by our mutual tastes in movies, music or literature, if we happened to have any at all.

  
    Sitting there neck deep in bubbly warm water, I heard a door open to my left, the opposite direction of the pool entrance.  Confused, I opened my eyes and looked over.

  
     Emerging from a great wall of steam in veritable slow motion, Lamar’s Mr. Cumberbatch strode toward me, body glistening with sweat, hair disheveled and frizzy, a short towel slung so low on his hips I was 99% positive he wasn’t wearing anything underneath it.  He stopped, smirked and raised an eyebrow at me. In response I forgot how to breathe.  And talk, apparently.  He waited silently, but I couldn’t find my voice.  His mouth twitched at the corner as he finally broke the silence.

  
    "Is this Smokey Robinson?"

  
    I was slack-jawed, awestruck. My ears managed to register a few words of “Shop Around" coming from my iPod behind me.  I think I nodded.

  
    “Hmmm, I have a friend who loves Motown.”

  
    I kicked myself internally, hard.  “Really?  He has good taste.”  My words were soft, quick on my tongue.  I vaguely realized that he was probably referring to Martin Freeman, of course, but I was not about to let on that I knew that.  I couldn’t begin to put it into words, anyway.

  
    He moved around to the other side of the pool, hips swaying slowly and methodically under that tight towel, and I saw him head toward a fuzzy spot in my peripheral vision.  It was a gym bag.  He leaned down gracefully and extracted a pair of swimming trunks from it.  My inner composure melted away at the confirmation of his nakedness.  _Where was he going to change into those and could I watch?_

  
    “You’re welcome, by the way,” he said, one hand on his hip, the other motioning toward me with his trunks.  I blinked hard and tried not to bite my tongue.

    “Oh.  Yes!  Thank you.  The hot tub is…hot.”  I tried to look grateful and relaxed at the same time, but as I couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering down his body, I probably just looked cross-eyed.  Curiosity started to overtake my shock, and I asked, “Where did you just come from?”

  
    “I materialized out of the ether.”  He smiled.  “Well, the sauna.”  I’d forgotten about the sauna.  He’d been in there…all alone…naked.  And I’d missed it.

  
    “Are you ready for lesson two?”  He was suddenly next to the hot tub, staring down at me.  “Or do you need a bit of a soak?”

  
    I shook my head.  No use waiting.  “No, let’s do this.”  I scooted forward to stand up, and then carefully climbed up the stairs and out of the water, casually smoothing my suit as I moved.  I glanced quickly at my phone but declined to actually check for texts from work.  If there were any, they would have to wait.  In exiting the hot tub, I’d felt him move behind me somewhere, and I twirled around to locate him.  He was standing near the steps to the shallow end, towel discarded and trunks already on.  Damn him!  As well as talented and gorgeous, he was also slightly magic.  I made a note to be on my toes.

  
    He descended into the water in front of me, making a beeline for a floating blue Styrofoam noodle I’d neglected to notice before.  I smiled to myself.  This wasn’t the first time someone had tried to teach me to swim.  Flotation devices helped, but in the end if I couldn’t swim unaided there was no point.  He retrieved the noodle and waded back over to me.  He extended his free hand.

  
    “I’m Benedict, by the way.  Lovely to meet you.”

  
    I smiled and took his offered hand.  “Katherine.  But please do me a favor and never call me that.  Kat is fine.”

  
    He raised his eyebrows at me.  “Kat.  Well, no wonder you don’t ‘do’ water.”  I rolled my eyes and he laughed.  “Heard that one before, I suppose?”

  
    "Mmm-hmm.  Where’d you get that?"  I nodded toward the pool toy he held in his hand.

  
    "Oh. From Lamar, of course."  He placed it lovingly in front of him, obviously proud he’d thought of using it.

  
    "I see.  So what is Lamar, the Q to your Bond or something?"

  
    His eyes danced at this.  “Yes, that’s a good analogy.  He’ll be pleased you said that.  Now," he said, “Let’s see if you can use this to kick your way around the pool."

  
    Our fingers touched as I took the noodle with both hands.  I didn’t want to burst his bubble, so I remained silent as I tucked it under my arms, paddled gently with my arms and began to kick.  I headed towards the deep end without so much as looking back at him.

  
    "Keep your toes pointed, you should use your feet like flippers."   His voice got farther away from me as I neared the other side of the pool.  “That’s good, that’s very good."  I touched the side, then turned around and headed straight for him.  He frowned at me.  “You’ve done this before haven’t you?"  I smiled and touched the side on the shallow end, then turned around to head the other direction.

  
    "You’re not the first person to take it upon themselves to teach me to swim.  I’m really very good at this.  It’s swimming without a floatation device that I suck at."

  
    I heard sloshing and when I turned around to go back toward the shallow end, he was sitting on the side of the pool looking contemplative.  He sounded a little wounded when he spoke.

  
    "Well, I must admit I hadn’t anticipated this."  He watched me turn around once more.  “Does this feel helpful in any way?"

  
    "I think it’s helping my sore muscles.  And I haven’t done this for a very long time, if that’s any consolation."

  
    "Oh."  Hearing that, he seemed a bit more cheery.  His head tilted and he looked amused.  “Who _is_ this?"

  
    I stopped kicking briefly and strained to hear the song my little speakers were playing.  One of my favorites.

  
    "The Platters.  ‘Twilight Time.’  1958."

  
    "So you’re a musical trivia…savant?"

  
    I nodded severely.  “Oh yes, especially when it comes to songs of the 50s and 60s.  Girl groups, doo-wop, you name it, I love it."  I touched the side on the deep end, turned again, glanced at him.

  
    He studied his fingernails with an amused look on his face.  “So where are you from, then?  I’ve been trying to place your accent."

  
    I smiled so big my face almost hurt.  God, he amused me.  “Good luck with that.  Nobody ever gets it right.  But you’ve got fifty guesses, so go ahead and give me your best one."

  
    "New York?"

  
    I snorted.  “Really?  Oh my…no.  Not from New York."

  
    He chuckled.  “All right, I’ll think about it some more."  The sound of his voice had moved, and I glanced over to see him looking through his bag.  He pulled out a cigarette and a lighter.  In one very swift movement obviously borne of habit, he tucked it into the corner of his mouth, lit it quickly and took a long drag.  He was back sitting on the side of the pool, feet dangling in the water, in no time.  He lounged back on one hand, lazily sucking on his cigarette with the other.  Smoke swirled from his nostrils and around his frizzy brunette curls.  If I weren’t such an enthusiastic non-smoker, the sight of him puffing away sexily poolside might have been enough to get me to pick up the habit.  

  
    "Trying to quit?"  I turned around for the deep end again.  My legs twitched with the effort.

  
    "Off and on.  I’m not very good at it.  You don’t approve?"

  
    I shrugged.  “None of my business, but I don’t care for it.  I had an aunt who died of lung cancer.  But I also have an uncle who’s been smoking for 40 years.  He’s healthy as a horse.  Really pissed the family off, you know?  At least have the courtesy to get sick so we can feel superior, am I right?"

  
     He grinned and smashed what was left of the cigarette out on the concrete next to him.  “Fair enough.  I think I will quit one day.  Hell, I’m always saying that."

  
    I would have found some clever way to continue to chastise him if my right leg hadn’t cramped up right then.  A bad one, the kind that can wake you up in the middle of the night and make you curl into a ball.  I stopped kicking, removed one arm from over the noodle and clutched at my right calf.  I started to sink, and panicked as I realized I was still in the deep end.  I turned around to face his direction before my mouth went under.

  
    "Benedict!"  And then he was gone.  Everything was wet and slow.

  
    I seemed to free fall for a moment, and it didn’t feel so bad, except that my eyes were screwed shut and I didn’t dare try to breathe.  My left hand reached out for something, anything, and was rewarded with the fabric of his swim trunks.  His whole body enveloped mine, and all at once my head was above water and I was gasping for air.  I was faintly impressed that I’d managed to hold my breath at all, which seemed a small victory at the moment, given that my leg was killing me and we were still adrift in the middle of the pool.  Soon Benedict had us on the steps in the shallow end.  I was glad to have something solid beneath me.

  
    "Dammit," I growled.  “Cramp!"

  
    The complaint had barely escaped my lips when suddenly I found my leg extended out above the surface of the water, just over his shoulder, his hands massaging my calf expertly.  The delicious shock of his hands on me so firmly made me a little light-headed.  I tried to think what it might look like to Lamar if he walked in on us like this - my leg all but draped over Benedict’s shoulder.  The thought made me blush in a very good way.  I must have smiled, because he smirked back at me.  I looked away and concentrated on my leg.  I felt the muscles starting to unclench.

  
    "Better?"  He asked.

  
    "Yes, thank you."  Under the water my hands held onto the bottom step tightly.  “I’m really making a habit of this, aren’t I?"  I looked up at him.

  
    "Yes, twice would qualify as a habit.  But it’s all right.  This is why we don’t swim alone."  One of his hands slid down to my thigh.  I didn’t mind.  “What’s this song, then?" he asked.

  
    I gave it a listen.  “Hmm.  The Crystals.  1963.  It’s called…’Then He Kissed Me.’"

  
    His other hand went to my waist and pulled me toward him.  “Don’t mind if I do."

  
    There was no passivity from me this time.  My arms went right around his neck, then into his hair.  It was baby soft, quite like his lips.  He tasted like peppermint and nicotine, and I was beginning to think that kissing him would likely be just as addictive as the latter.  He kissed me gently but decisively, as if he’d set his heart on it before he’d even gotten to the pool.  And despite the fact that I’d loosely wrapped my legs around him, his mouth was playing it chaste, and our tongues never met.  This amused and impressed me.  We were strangers, after all.  A little mystery was good.  It also gave me something to look forward to, I hoped.

  
    The kiss broke with a small, moist sound that my ears appreciated.  I stared at his mouth and brought my hand up to brush my thumb against his lips.  They were full, pink and lovely.  I felt the need to study them, and would have continued doing so if he hadn’t said my name.

  
    “Kat?  Would you like to dance?”

  
    He splashed up the steps and out of the pool, clutching my hand and dragging me behind him.  I didn’t know whether to protest or laugh.  Very near the inside wall, halfway between the hot tub and my stack of stuff, he stopped and pulled me into himself, our bodies making full contact.  His left hand held my right against his chest, and the other pressed firmly against my bare back, his thumb stroking my skin ever so slightly.  I had to look up at him, his height overpowering me.

  
    “I think you have inferiority radar,” I said.  I could hear Santo & Johnny’s “Sleep Walk” coming from my mini speakers behind us.  He gave me a questioning look.

  
    I sighed dramatically.  “I don’t really know how to dance, either.”

  
    He threw his head back and laughed at me.  We kept moving in a slow circle and I just went along with it.  “That one’s done in one easy lesson,” he said.  “Just stand and sway.”  And so we did for a while, an awkward silence growing between us.  It was lovely, really, being in his arms, but it felt like we both wanted to get to what was next, and neither of us quite knew what that was.  He was the first to break the silence.

  
    “I was going to apologize.”  He licked his lips and took a breath.  “For kissing you yesterday…I don’t really know where my manners were.”  He gave a shy smile and looked down.  “But I suppose today’s kiss sort of rendered that a moot point.”

  
    I gazed up at him seriously.  “Just so you know, for future reference, you never have to apologize for kissing me.”  I hoped that was as clear an invitation as I could extend.  In reply, I found myself suddenly lifted in the air, being propelled sideways.  My back met the wall and I brought both legs up around his waist and threw a hand behind me to brace myself.  He kissed me brutally and didn’t spare me his tongue this time.  I welcomed him in, very much aware that we both now knew exactly where this was going.

  
    His mouth was on my neck, and his warm, slightly cigarette-scented breath tickled the hair there.  I felt water from his hair drip down my suit and in between my breasts.  I’d decided he was strong enough to support me against the wall, so now both hands were clutching his back, exploring everywhere I could reach.  It was then that he abruptly stopped and looked at me.  Before I could scream at him for stopping - _my God why was he stopping?!?_ – I heard a small but insistently annoying sound coming from my left.

  
_Vworp!  Vworp!  Vworp!  Vworp!_

  
    Benedict smiled at me.  “Is that the TARDIS?”  

  
    "Shit," I said softly, resting my head back against the wall.  “That’s my ringtone for work."

  
    His hands were on my hips, pulling me back from the wall.  My feet touched the ground and at the same time my heart fell.  “It’s…shit.  I have to check…dammit!"  His hand traced softly down my arm as I moved out from between him and the wall.  I snatched my phone angrily from the floor.  Seven text messages, and now a new voicemail. At least I had job security.  I looked over at him as apologetically as I could.  He had no idea how sorry this made me.

  
    "I’m sorry.  They’re up against a deadline.  I’m going to have to…"  My voice trailed off.  I hoped I sounded as disappointed as I felt.

  
    Benedict smiled and reached down for my towel.  He threw it over his head and began to rub furiously at his hair.  When he pulled it away his locks exploded into a mass of dark, frizzy curls.  He looked so adorable it made me ache in the pit of my stomach.

  
    "It’s fine," he said, wrapping my towel around him.  “We can’t have you losing your job.  It’s not like you could get work as a lifeguard."  He moved slowly toward me and I tried to smile.  I knew what was probably coming.  The polite brush-off, no doubt.  Well, it had been unbelievably amazing while it lasted, and I didn’t mind telling him so.  He approached, bent down quickly and placed a firm, brief kiss on my mouth.  He turned away and I tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound like begging.  Nothing came to mind.

  
    "Well now, ‘Don’t-Call-Me-Katherine,’" he said, leaning back against the pool door.  “Tomorrow night, same time, same pool.  And," he pointed at me and winked, “Don’t even think about not coming.  I know what room you’re in."  With that he traipsed down the hall in a poor imitation of my exit from the night before, not looking back once.  I stared at his ass until he disappeared around a corner.

  
    I glared at my phone briefly, burning up with hatred for my coworkers, yet strangely giddy all the same.  I retrieved his towel from near the shallow end, then walked back toward my bag and iPod.  The wall caught my eye and I felt myself blush as I could clearly see a wet image of my backside on the concrete, his hand prints on either side of me.  Wouldn’t Lamar find _that_ amusing.  I held up my phone and snapped a photo for posterity.

  
    If all went well, this time tomorrow I _still_ wouldn’t know how to swim.


	3. Night Three

    At just about half past midnight, I floated alone in the hotel pool, staring contentedly at the ceiling and listening to a soft rain beginning to fall outside.  I was in the shallow end, but still, I knew I shouldn’t be doing this without company.  I still lacked the ability to swim, after all.  Not that I cared about learning anymore, not really.

  
    My mind drifted back to earlier that afternoon, when I’d woken up very late and opened my door to walk down the hall and join my friend for a late lunch in her room.  A gigantic vase of white roses, twenty-four of them, was on the floor in the hall, accented with foliage and blocking my way.  There was no card, but I knew they were from Benedict (with perhaps a little help from Lamar).  It had taken me five minutes to haul them inside and clear a space for them on the table next to the bag he had left at the pool the night before, which I’d confiscated in the hopes he’d at least have to come collect it.  I sat and stared at them for a while, then spent most of lunch daydreaming and being admonished for doing so.  I’d grown tired of this vacation, tired of my friends and tired of my own hands on my body as I lay in bed after seeing him each night.  Darkness couldn’t fall soon enough.

  
    I stood up swiftly and felt a slight surge of pride in the simple act, something I couldn’t feel just a few short days ago.  After being assured that my help was no longer needed by my coworkers the (very early) morning before, I’d had to numb my brain with some mindless web surfing.  I’d read about the dead man’s float, and I knew I probably shouldn’t try it without Benedict there to watch me, but I was feeling brave, or maybe stupid.  I took a huge breath and fell slowly forward, bracing myself under the water on one of the steps near the shallow end.  I slowly brought up one hand, then the other.  I wished I was brave enough to open my eyes, but that was for another time.  I stilled my body and stretched my arms over my head.  It really was peaceful, and I wondered what it was about this that had ever stopped me from learning.  Maybe I just needed the right teacher.

  
    Just as I was ready to come up for air, the water softly tickling my ears, I was pushed violently sideways then haphazardly righted.  I clutched at my attacker, and it took only a few seconds for me to realize that it was him.  It must have been a terribly morbid sight, me floating there like a corpse.  The concern on his face said as much as he locked those steely blue eyes on mine.  In mere seconds fear turned to anger and he pushed me away, just slightly.

  
    “What the _hell_ are you doing?”  He pushed his hair back from his face and glared at me.  “You shouldn’t be…I thought you were…damn you, Kat!”

  
    My hands reached out for his shoulders and I tried to suppress a smile.  “I’m sorry.  I was just getting the hang of floating.  I should’ve waited for you.  I’m sorry!”  His eyes were scanning around the room, everywhere but at me, and he was breathing hard and looking increasingly more confused.  I kneaded the muscles in his neck and pulled him closer.  “I’m so sorry.”   I wrapped my legs around his waist and buried my face in his neck.  His chest rose and fell rapidly, and I pressed myself against him, willing it to slow.  He wrapped his arms around me then, planting a kiss near my ear.

    “You scared the shit out of me.”

  
    “I’ll send you some flowers to make up for it.”

  
    He pulled away to look me in the face.  He grinned slightly.  “Did you like them?”

  
    I pecked him quickly on the lips.  “They’re gorgeous.  But I don’t think they’ll fit in my checked luggage.”

  
    He blinked at me.  “When are you leaving?”

  
    I sighed heavily.  “We take the train to London tomorrow afternoon.  Then we fly out of Heathrow two days later.”

  
    A flash of lightning lit up the room. The rain began falling harder on the skylight above.  Benedict glanced overhead, then back to me.  The hesitation was gone from his face now.  He studied me carefully.  “And where will you be flying to?”

  
    I giggled and shook my head.  “Oh, no.  Forty-nine more guesses.  I’m not making it easy for you.”

  
    “Fair enough,” he said.  “So we have a lot to accomplish before then.”

  
    I nodded and tightened the grip my legs had around him.  “Yes.  Yes, we do.”

    The reality of his lips on mine was so much nicer than anything I could ever recall in my head, and I’d done a _lot_ frustrated imagining these last two nights.  His hands rested heavily on my hips, and I rocked them subtly against his.  Emboldened by his kiss, I reached back and underneath my wet hair to slowly undo the tie to my top.  I’d gone with a two piece suit tonight, a look that I felt I usually couldn’t pull off, but this one, lavender with silver embroidery, had a substantial amount of fabric and could hardly be called itsy bitsy or teeny weeny.  It knotted at my back, behind my neck and at both hips.  I felt this would obviously aid in ease of removal.  Another plus.

  
    The tie around my neck now free, I contorted myself around to get to the one between my shoulder blades.  Benedict pulled away and looked at me with a cocked eyebrow.

   
    “What are you doing?”

  
    I scowled and reached around with both hands.  “Your job,” I said.  “Get me out of this, will you?”  He smiled and reached behind me.  His nimble fingers untied the knot easily, and I pulled the top away from my body, tossing it somewhere over his head and behind him.

    “We’re not exactly in private, you know.”  He wasn’t looking at my face anymore.   The cold water was a shock to my now bare breasts, but I didn’t let on.  I wanted him to warm me up.  I pressed myself against his chest, then moved away.  He pulled me back toward him, turning us in the water so that my back was to the glass door.  His hand came up to squeeze my left breast gently, and then he bowed his head to take my right nipple in his mouth.  Here he was not gentle.  He clenched it just so between his teeth, sucking firmly, then released it to swirl his tongue around, his mouth nearly covering my entire areola.  He turned his other wrist around and caressed me with the back of his hand, kneading that nipple between his fingers.  I tried to watch him as he worked, but it became too much and I had to close my eyes.

    “ _Oh my God_.  Don’t EVER stop doing that."

  
    He hummed happily against me, then moved to the opposite side and mouthed at me hungrily there.  I felt one of his hands move to the tie on my right hip while the other supported me, my legs still wrapped around him.  I detached one hand from his hair to untie the other side.  I was naked then, and feeling quite like he was at an advantage.  I pulled at the waistline of his trunks.   With his mouth still on my breast, I spoke with some difficulty.

  
    “Why are these still on?”

  
    He grunted and looked up at me.  “You know, we should really…go somewhere.”  His eyes were dark and full of lust.  Before I let my cloudy brain convince me to go any further, I pushed away from him and moved toward the steps.  I ignored the pieces of my suit floating around me and walked slowly up and out of the water.  I turned toward him, and saw his eyes rake over me.  Then he shook his head, as though to wake himself, and followed, collecting my top and bottoms as he scrambled toward me.  He dropped them once out of the pool and then quickly grabbed one of the clean, folded towels I’d set poolside.  He wrapped it around me and glanced at the door.  He made the mistake of taking his hands off of me then, so I dropped the towel playfully.  His eyes went wide and he quickly stooped to grab at it, his eyes dancing between me and the entrance.  I loved how nervous this was making him.

    "All right, all right, _stop_ that.  Anyone could walk in."  He draped it over my shoulders and held his hands there firmly to stop me from taking it off.  Instead of wrapping me up like a burrito again, he pushed the towel back so that I was wearing it like a shawl, utterly exposed from the front, but covered from the back.  His eyes looked down and he took me in.  I felt wonderfully naughty.  He sighed in resignation.  “You are beautiful, you know."  I rested both hands over his hips and traced at his ribs with my thumbs.  “So are you," I said.  “Although I would like to feed you a cheeseburger or two."

  
    “ _Oh God_ ," he gasped at me.  “I would love nothing more than for you to feed me a cheeseburger.  Come the end of August, I’m having three in one sitting."

  
    At the word August, my heart fell a little.  I’d be on another continent by then.  I didn’t know where that would leave us.  This wasn’t the time to ask, I knew.  So I didn’t.

  
    I backed away from him and kneeled down to collect my room key, which was under the other towel.  I tossed it at him and moved to leave.  He hissed at me.

  
    “Kat!  You’re _naked_.”

    I glanced down at the large towel draped around me and shrugged.  “I won’t tell Lamar if you won’t.”  I turned and walked away deliberately.  To my delight I soon felt him walking behind me, my balled up suit clenched in his fist and pressed against my back.  The walk to the elevator was almost a sprint, with Benedict struggling to keep up with me and insure I didn’t lose my towel again.  I smiled in smug satisfaction as he pressed the button for my floor - he really did know what room I was in.  As the doors closed I turned to look up at him but he wouldn’t meet my eye.  I suspected the knowledge that there were security cameras in the elevator had something to do with it.  When the doors opened he picked me up with one arm and dragged me, laughing, down the hall.  Three tries with my room key card and the door finally opened, and Benedict tossed me inside and threw one last look behind him as he shut and bolted the door.

  
    I discarded my towel for the last time and collapsed on the bed.  He unceremoniously dropped my suit and room card on the floor and fell on top of me, tangling our limbs and kissing me lightly, over and over again.  In between kisses I whispered, “Touch me."

  
    He smiled and caressed my stomach.  “Where?"

  
    "Anywhere.  _Everywhere_."

    He rolled me gently over and swept my wet hair away from my neck.  I stretched my arms above my head and enjoyed the feel of his mouth trailing kisses over my shoulders while his hands moved up to my wrists, then slowly followed my arms back down to my sides and buttocks.  Just when I got used to him touching me in one place, his hands were off to the next.  I never wanted him to stop, but an urgency was building in me.  I could feel him, hard against my lower thigh, and I couldn’t wait much longer to have him inside of me.

  
    I spoke into the now damp coverlet, my fingers clawing at the fabric.  “Benedict, I need…"  His mouth found the small of my back, his hands reaching down to caress the insides of my thighs.  I quickly flipped over and pulled his face up near mine.  He was surprised, his eyes stormy.

  
    "What do you need?  Tell me."  His hand moved down my stomach, then lower.  I clutched at his wrist. 

  
    "I need—" I didn’t get to finish.  Before I could protest two of those lovely fingers were inside me, and it took all I had not to come right then.  I let out a low moan and my whole body bucked against his.  I stilled and he moved just slightly inside of me.  I tried to sound sane when I spoke.

  
    "I need…to be sure we’re safe.  Do you have any protection?"

    His fingers stopped.  “Well, I…"  He looked momentarily like a kid who’d just gotten socks for Christmas.

  
    I let out a knowing laugh and nodded my head toward the table.  “You left your bag last night.  It’s over there."  He sighed with relief and moved to get up, slipping his fingers agonizingly slowly out of me.  I mourned the loss but my body was ready for more.  I hooked my fingers into the lining of his wet trunks and roughly yanked them down.  He wrinkled his nose at me and let them pool around his ankles.  He stepped one foot out and used the other to toss them in a corner.  It was my turn to ogle him.  His silhouette against the window was lit briefly by lightning, his form slight but muscular, a peculiar and intriguing contradiction I’d always found attractive in him.  He was paler than me, if that was possible, and his thighs were divine.  I couldn’t wait to see what they could do.

  
    I watched him walk over to his bag and unzip it.  His right hand was drenched and glistening with my wetness, and he was careful, almost reverential with it.  He pulled out a small black wrapper and I made an over exaggerated huff of protest through my nose.

  
    "So I was going to ask if you carry around a condom all the time or did you just think you were going to get lucky at some point?"

  
    He looked at me sideways with a slight smile before he answered.  He ripped the plastic open easily.

    "My answer depends entirely on which option makes me look worse."

  
    I smiled and decided to let it go.  We’d both known where this was going after the first night, I was sure of that.  I watched silently as he put on the condom, holding the tip carefully and rolling it down.  He looked up at me when he was done, then wrapped his right hand around his erection, pumping up and down slowly, lubricating the latex with my wetness.  My insides clenched and my mouth fell open.  What I said next sounded almost angry.

  
    “You need…to get over here… _now_.”

  
    He quickly returned to the bed, and I laid back, parting my legs wide.  He looked me over appreciatively one more time, then entered me easily, swiftly and completely.  My entire body shifted with his effort and I gasped at the sensation.  He settled over me, an elbow on each side and his face over mine, waiting for a silent clue to continue.  I bit my lower lip and whispered, “Ben…"  That was all he needed.  

    He moved over me slowly at first, his torso caressing my stomach and then breasts, his exhaled breath echoing in my ear each time he moved away and then back.  My hips moved up to meet him with every thrust.  I caught his lips with mine as he slid over me, my tongue pushing into his mouth in time with our hips.  I felt myself toying with the edge already, and it was no surprise to me - I’d spent nearly the last forty-eight hours in a near constant state of arousal.  I was frankly astonished that his fingers, briefly though they’d been inside me, hadn’t already done me in.  I closed my eyes and tried to hold back, thinking of how much I’d wanted this, but opening them to see that beautiful face hovering so near, feeling so acutely every place his body was touching mine - it was no use.  A not-so-distant rumble of thunder outside shook the whole building, but I felt it most keenly in the pit of my belly.  One command from my lips of “Faster!" was all I needed to be pushed over.  A few more deep, urgent thrusts from him (those hips and thighs were talented indeed) and I was there, back arching, seeing stars and moaning his name a bit louder than I perhaps should have considering the late hour and thin walls.  Panting over me, still very hard inside me, Benedict stopped to touch my face. I breathed a very deep, contented sigh and smiled lazily up at him.  I asked, “Why are you stopping?"

  
    "Are you all right for me to…?"

  
    I rolled my eyes at him and pulled him down to me.  “God, yes.  Don’t stop."  With that I clutched him roughly and rolled us over so that I was straddling him.  I leaned slightly forward and began to move my hips in a figure eight motion.  He grasped at my buttocks and squeezed them in time with me. Collecting my wet hair from its messy splay across my shoulders, I twisted it to one side and wrung out the cold water onto his chest.  He flinched and dug his nails into my hips, pulling me down faster and faster, and I became suddenly aware that the bed frame’s hinges were in dire need of some WD40 – and that this was not the kind of hotel that screwed their headboards to the wall.  Suddenly grateful for the white noise of the pouring rain outside, I leaned forward to press both hands against the wood to stop the pounding, my nipples grazing his chest intermittently and my face right over his.  Using the wall as leverage, I bucked against him harder and faster, watching him watching me until finally his head twitched to the side and his lips formed my name silently, that beautiful bow shape contorting into an almost perfect ‘O.’  I sat up slowly and ran my fingers over his chest.  He looked at me for a moment, pupils wide, then sat up and wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in my neck.  I waited as he softened inside me, then moved away and down his body to lay my head on his chest as he leaned back.  I draped one leg over him.  We were both still damp, but at least now we were warm.

     
    "Not that I’m complaining - I’d like to make that perfectly clear - but I’d like a do over,"  I said, lightly swirling my fingertips over his collarbones.  How could collarbones possibly be so beautiful?  He smiled and turned onto his side to face me.

    "You think we can do better?"

  
    I snorted involuntarily.  “Oh, I _know_ we can."

  
    "Well, that means we have to go to my room.  I’m no longer ashamed to say that I do have more condoms.  Loads of them, in fact."   I chuckled softly but said nothing.  Of course he could tell there was something on my mind.  His next words were serious.  “What are you thinking?"

  
    I couldn’t look him in the eye.  “I don’t do things like this.  Ever.  I mean that."

  
    "What?  You mean meet a stranger, let him teach you to swim in three easy lessons and then sleep with him?"

  
    "You didn’t teach me how to swim.  But yes."

  
    "Well, I do it all the time.  My goal is to have sex with all the women I fail to teach to swim in every room of this hotel.  So — one down, a couple hundred more to go."

  
    I slapped him rather hard on the bicep.  He winced and then grinned.  “I’m joking…I don’t typically move this fast either.  Can’t say I’m sorry, though."  The way he looked at me then made me blush, which, considering what we’d just done, was quite a feat.  I tried to think of a non-awkward way to ask where all this would leave us come morning.  I couldn’t.  He seemed to sense my confusion, and even share it.  As I was about to say something, anything, he got up and moved across the room to the trash can, wrapping the condom in a tissue from the bedside table and disposing of it. I watched him intently as he turned back to me.  I tried to memorize the sight of him standing there naked, for fear I might not get another chance.  It took me a bit to realize that he looked as bewildered as I felt.  He made a slight course correction and reached for my phone. 

    "I used to have one of these,"  he said.

  
    "Then you know what a piece of shit it is," I replied.  He began pressing buttons in a familiar way.  He paused, and then thirty seconds or so of intense typing later he smiled, tossing my phone back to me.

  
    "Here you go.  My number and email address.  So you can get in touch with me when you’re in London."  I clutched at my outdated device, staring at it like it was suddenly made of gold.   I shook my head at him.  “I don’t understand."

  
    "You’re not leaving for a few days.  If you have Saturday free, I’d like to take you to dinner."  He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to run his fingers through his messy, still wet curls.  It was a futile effort.  I wanted to get a comb and help him.

 

    "So you don’t have to be on set—"  I bit my tongue a bit slower than I should have.  I’d never let on that I knew who he was.  Time to see if it bothered him.  A slight turn of his head was all the physical reaction I could perceive.

  
    "Did you…read the script in my bag?"  He turned fully to look at me, but he seemed more amused than bothered.  I was glad.

    "No.  I desperately wanted to, but I didn’t.  I swear.”  I traced my fingers over the patterns of the coverlet, trying to look as innocent as I was.

     
     "Uh-huh.”  He drawled out the syllables in a bad imitation of a bad American accent.  All of the sudden he jumped slightly and said, “I know!  California?" 

  
    It took me a second to catch up.  I laughed.  “No, but that’s two down, forty-eight more to go."  He smiled slightly.

  
    "You are going to tell me eventually, right?"  He watched me carefully for a moment as I refused to answer, then picked up my towel from where I’d dropped it earlier and threw it at me.  He stood up and looked around the room for his swim trunks and then made for the other side of the room where they’d landed.  He leaned over to sniff one of the white roses he’d sent me as he passed by.   “Come on now, ‘Don’t-Call-Me-Katherine,’” he said, nodding at me.  “Put your towel back on and let’s go to my room.  There’s a balcony, more condoms, cigarettes" - I scowled at this - “and dare I mention that the bath tub is also a Jacuzzi?” At this I jumped up gleefully and collected my room key from the floor.  He pulled his trunks on quickly and met me at the door as I was undoing the bolt.  Before I could reach for the knob he turned me around and pressed his body against mine, kissing me deeply as he tucked my towel around me protectively.

    “You know, it’s been awhile since I’ve been to America.”  A smile.

  
    I smiled back.  “You should visit soon.  There’s lots more hotel rooms in which you haven’t slept with women you failed to teach to swim.  I could recommend a few.”  I punched at his stomach playfully.  “And I know where you can get a great cheeseburger.”

  
    He looked at me through lowered eyelashes.  “I just might visit.  Very soon."  My heart was bursting at the prospect of seeing more of him in a different context.  In the last few minutes I’d realized just how far past attraction our time together had taken me.  Now I had the rest of the night to look forward to, as well as seeing him in London, an opportunity for which I would happily ditch my friends.  Again.

  
    Benedict reached behind me and turned the knob.  “Come on, Kat," he said.  “I’ve an early call time in the morning.  But if you can properly wear me out I should be able to get a couple hours of _really_ restorative sleep.  Hmmm?"  He pushed me out into the hall, slapped my ass _hard_ and closed the door behind us.  I didn’t even check to see if the coast was clear before I dropped my towel and walked toward the elevator.  I heard him gasp and scramble behind me.

  
    "I think I’m up to the challenge."


End file.
